


"You Should Have Been More Careful, Gregory."

by CoLaLu24



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Consensual light punishment, Dom Mycroft Holmes, Greg likes it a bit rough, Light Dom/sub, M/M, NO Sex while Greg's drunk, Oral Sex, Spanking, Sub Greg, if you can already call it "dom", super "reasonable" punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 05:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11960865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoLaLu24/pseuds/CoLaLu24
Summary: "'Detective Inspector, what do you think you’re doing?' Mycroft hisses and pulls the grey-haired man into the hallway to close the door behind him.Greg’s vision blurs, but that doesn't keep him from stumbling through the corridor, until he presses his body against Mycroft's. Groaning he grinds his hips against the younger man’s cock.'I… I kn-ow exactly what I’m-m doing. Eeeexactly,' Greg babbles into Mycroft's ear and the smell of alcohol enfolds them."





	"You Should Have Been More Careful, Gregory."

**Author's Note:**

> Well… This is something entirely different to what I usually write. But I found the imagination of a slightly dominant Mycroft somewhat enticing, as normally Greg’s the top one in my fanfictions.  
> This is moreover my first attempt to write a story that contains a little bit of pain play/spanking, so please be kind with me :)  
> As always, please note that English isn’t my first language. Therefore I apologise for any mistakes.  
> Anyway I hope you enjoy reading it!

 

"Mycroft. Myyyyyycrooffft. Come ooooon open the do-or. I know that you’re at hoome," Greg babbled and banged on the wooden door of Mycroft’s house. "Mycroft let me iihiin," he screamed and continued his hammering.

The DI had spent the last evening and almost the whole night with his colleagues in a bar. They’d celebrated the birthday of another member of the yard and had all drunk quite a lot. Greg didn’t even know anymore how many beers and shots he’d had. He didn't remember how he ended up in front of Mycroft's house either. But his hand that wasn’t occupied with rudely waking up the older Holmes, clenched around the shape of his car key.

 

"Myyy-croooo-ft," he yelled again and could have been heard at the other end of the street without big effort.

Footsteps approached on the inside of the house and a key was turned in the lock. Then the door swung open and revealed the slightly dishevelled looking figure of the older Holmes. His blue eyes seemed to glow obscurely and dangerously in the dim light of the street lamps.

"Detective Inspector, what do you think you’re doing?" Mycroft hissed and pulled the grey-haired man into the hallway to close the door behind him.

 

Greg’s vision was blurred, but that didn't keep him from stumbling through the corridor, until he pressed his body against Mycroft's. Groaning he ground his hips against the younger man’s cock that was covered by his pyjama pants and a dressing gown, he must have hastily put on.

"I… I kn-ow exactly what I’m-m doing. Eeeexactly," Greg sighed into Mycroft's ear and the smell of alcohol enfolded them.

 

"How much have you drunk?" the politician asked and roughly pushed the DI away. His voice was ice cold. "You smell disgusting. I’m feeling drunk just by inhaling the air around you."

"Oh c’mon Myc, as if this would mat-ter," Lestrade chuckled and his fingers fumbled with the belt of the older Holmes’ dressing gown.

He fell to his knees and wanted to pull down Mycroft's trousers, but in the next moment his vision went black and he collapsed onto the heavy carpet in the foyer of Mycroft's house.

 

 

<> 

 

 

Lestrade growled and turned around. His head hurt terribly. The pain a muffled knocking behind his forehead. Slowly he opened his eyes and blinked into the dazzling light of a late forenoon. He lay in a large bed, the silken sheets refreshing on his heated skin. But where was this room?

 

"Fuck," the DI muttered, when the details of the last night came across his mind again. He remembered when he’d decided that it would be a fantastic idea to drive to Mycroft’s home. His drunken brain had considered it to be the perfect moment to finally try to let his carefully hidden, his carefully _suppressed_ desires come true. He had not really tried to seduce Mycroft Holmes in the middle of his hallway? "Oh no. What have I done? Fucking alcohol," Lestrade sighed aloud and closed his eyes again.

 

But it was no surprise that his way had led him to _Mycroft’s_ house. Every time he’d met Sherlock’s older brother he’d wanted nothing more than to rip these damn three-piece suits off of him, to see how the man would look beneath them. He wondered how his skin would feel if he brushed his hands over it. He craved to feel the politician’s long fingers roughly pulling on his grey hair, until his scalp would tingle because of the pain. To feel the man’s cock buried deep inside his arse. How would it feel to be fucked by him? By a man that seemed so intimidating. So _powerful_. And yet so unreachable for the DI.

 

People might have expected him to be the dominant part in a sexual relationship. Especially because of his job that required him to act as the one in charge. During his first sexual encounters with men, when he’d been a young copper, he’d always topped. Until the first time he’d been fucked against a wall in a small, dark alley after an evening in a pub. Then he’d realised that he sometimes _wanted_ to be dominated. That he’d enjoyed the pain of being fucked almost without preparation against a rough wall. And Mycroft seemed like a man who would never give up the control he possessed.

 

Greg pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and wondered how he could escape this house without running into the older Holmes. Sighing he folded back the blanket and realised that he was still fully dressed, only his shoes and socks had been removed and neatly placed in front of the bed. But what else should he have expected? That Mycroft would have jumped at the idea of fucking him while he’d been so drunk that he hadn’t been able to walk in a straight line? _For sure._ Greg’s gaze moved over the furniture of the room. Heavy wardrobes and commodes out of dark wood covered the walls of what looked like a guestroom. A door seemed to lead to an en suite bathroom and he got up to check in the mirror on how miserable he looked.

 

His mirror image greeted him with reddened eyes and dishevelled hair, but he’d seen worse. He rolled up the sleeves of his wrinkled shirt and turned on the water in the sink to splash some of it onto his face. A new toothbrush lay on the shelf above the sink and he started to brush his teeth. If he would run into Mycroft, then at least not like a zombie, he tried to encourage him, but it was a weak attempt.

 

After putting on his socks and shoes, Greg searched his pockets for his keys. But he couldn't find them. Either he’d lost them somewhere in the hallway of this enormous house or… Mycroft must have kept them so that a secret flight was impossible. The DI shook his head and opened the door of the room to walk through the hallway towards the stairs. His whole body was tensed and he really toyed with the idea of just leaving the house and using his spare key. But his plans were destroyed, when he thoughtlessly passed an open door.

 

"Good morning, Detective Inspector. Where do you think you’re going? I thought after your nightly visit I might deserve a little explanation on your part," Mycroft’s voice echoed out of the room.

 

Greg instantly froze to the spot and sighed aloud. With sagging shoulders he turned around to join the older Holmes in his dining room. Mycroft sat at the table, dressed as usual in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit and typed something into his blackberry. But when the DI entered the room, he placed it on the table top next to a bunch of keys that looked really familiar to Greg.

 

"What was the intention of your visit last night?" Mycroft said and his blue eyes bored right into Greg’s brown ones.

_"As if he wouldn't know why I came here. I think I’ve made it quite clear."_

"Mycroft, listen. I really am very sorry that I disturbed you last night. You have no idea how embarrassing this is for me. So could we please just forget about it?"

"You would like that, wouldn't you? But not until I’ve clarified something," the politician said and something Greg was unable to put into words resonated in his voice.

 

"First of all, you can count yourself lucky that you didn’t trigger the alarm system. Second, that no neighbour called the police. That’s not a part of the city where drunken men bang on doors in the middle of the night. And third, that you had no accident on the way to my house," Mycroft ended his monologue.

"Especially for a Detective Inspector the consequences could have been fatal. Imagine if you’d had crashed into another car."

 

"Okay. Fine," Lestrade sighed and rubbed his palm over his face. "I’m sorry okay?"

"No it’s not 'okay' Inspector," Mycroft said and his voice turned dangerously low. "You can't imagine how much I would like to see you bent over my knee while I slap my hand on your arse until you remember that what you’ve done is anything but 'okay'."

Greg almost choked on his own breath when he realised what Mycroft had said. He would have thought that the older Holmes must have made a joke, but his voice was cold and dead serious. Besides Mycroft Holmes was no man for gags.

 

Silence stretched over them, Mycroft’s words still lingering above the two men. Greg felt that they had also left another impression on him. Blood rushed into his cock and he was hard within seconds. Painfully hard. It was as if Mycroft had put all the secret needs that lingered deep inside his body into words. The younger man’s eyes moved down Lestrade's front, until they stopped at the visible bulge in his trousers.

 

"Come here," Mycroft smirked and the expression on his face literally screamed that he’d known exactly how the older man would react to his words.

Mycroft's voice pulled Greg out of his agony and his feet led him almost automatically to the older Holmes, who still sat at the table and eyed every movement of the other man.

 

"Strip," he ordered in a demanding tone that allowed no disobedience. Greg shifted uncomfortably. The thought of undressing in the middle of Mycroft's dining room seemed so inappropriate and yet so unbearably arousing.

"Even tough we are in no hurry, I can hardly wait to see you in my lap. So I repeat myself for one last time. Strip."

 

Greg started to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. It was even harder for him to push them through the tiny buttonholes with Mycroft’s piercing eyes resting on his chest. But finally he was able to toss his shirt onto the floor and instead get rid of his shoes and socks again. His trousers joined the pile of clothes on the carpet only seconds later.

 

He now stood just dressed in his boxer shorts in front of the older Holmes. Mycroft inhaled sharply when his eyes moved over Greg’s bare chest. The muscles under his tanned skin flexed with every movement. It was breath taking.

 

"Now we will see if you understand that what you’ve done is not 'okay'," Mycroft said with a husky voice Greg had never heard escaping his mouth before.

Mycroft pushed back his chair and tapped onto his thighs a few times, to indicate the older man that he expected him to come.

 

Greg stood only mere centimetres away from the older Holmes, his gaze directed down onto him. With one swift movement Mycroft suddenly grabbed Greg’s waist and in the next second the detective was bent over his knees, back directed upwards.

 

"Honestly, I’ve already wanted to do this to you, when you stumbled into my house last night," Mycroft said almost conversationally, while his thumbs moved in circles over Greg’s cloth-covered arse. "But I wanted that you would be sober and don’t forget about anything. Don’t forget about one single smack." During the last few words he’d lifted his hand and slapped it hard on Greg’s buttocks. The older man winced at the feeling. His arse started to burn under the fabric of his boxer shorts. But should this stinging pain really feel so fucking good? Should it really be so fucking arousing to be spanked by another man? Although Mycroft definitely was not like any other, ordinary man. Greg almost hissed aloud, when he was pulled out of his thoughts by the next harsh slap.

 

It was intense. After every time the older Holmes’ hand hit him, the younger man rubbed it softly, almost _affectionately_ over his arse. Greg had never felt something like this before. Pain and comfort combined it such an indescribable way.

"I think three more slaps should be sufficient," Mycroft murmured. "I want you to count them aloud, do you understand?"

Greg nodded slightly, but Mycroft grabbed a fist full of his grey hair and lifted his head. "Do you understand?"

"Yes I do," the DI answered breathlessly.

"Fine."

 

Mycroft hooked his fingers into the waistband of Greg’s boxer shorts and slid them down to his knees. Only moments later the first slap started to burn on the older man’s now uncovered arse.

"One," he managed to gasp.

His cock pulsed hot against Mycroft's woollen trousers. The leaking precome soaking into the expensive fabric. He stared to rut his hips to higher the friction of his cock against the other man’s leg, but Mycroft stopped him with the second hit.

"Two," Greg breathed heavily.

 

"How dare you think that you can come now?" Mycroft warned him. His manicured fingernails dug into the sore skin of Greg’s arse and elicited another moan from the older man.

"You can come when I allow you to come," Mycroft said and his hand smacked down onto Greg’s arse for the last slap.

"Three." The DI inhaled deeply.

 

"Good Gregory. You did very well," Mycroft purred into Greg’s ear and rubbed his palm over his reddened arse.

"But don’t you think you owe me something? For the help I offered you to understand your misdemeanour," Mycroft smirked and squeezed his own cock through his pants.

 

Greg’s mouth watered at the mere thought of having Mycroft’s dick shoved up into him and he moved to kneel in front of the younger man. Teasingly he let his tongue dart out of his mouth and licked over his lower lip, looking up through his dark lashes. He knew exactly which effect this had on the older Holmes. Mycroft's eyes widened for split seconds. The black pupils almost swallowing the light blue rings around them.

 

With elegant and steady fingers Mycroft opened up the button of his trousers. He slid them down and grabbed Greg’s head to pull him between his parted legs. The DI shifted forwards on his knees, until his face was right before Mycroft's throbbing cock that still lay under the man’s black shorts. Heat radiated through the silken fabric and tingled on Greg’s face.

 

Mycroft's nails dug into the leathern armrests of his chair, when Greg closed his mouth over his still cloth-covered bulge. His tongue moved over the fabric and he got completely lost in Mycroft's indescribable scent. His musky arousal combined with the smell of his expensive shower gel.

 

Greg sucked on the fabric, feeling blood pulsing hot through Mycroft’s cock underneath them. But with a sharp yank on the older man’s grey hair, Mycroft signalised Greg that he should stop his teasing. And Greg obeyed willingly. Far too strong the craving to feel Mycroft's cock sliding into his mouth. He pulled down the older Holmes’ pants and heard Mycroft taking a deep breath when his cock sprung free and was enfolded by the chilly air of the dining room.

 

Greg shifted forward and moved his tongue along Mycroft’s length. Starting at the shaft and making his way all over the sensitive skin. He let it his tongue circle over the tip of Mycroft’s cock, gathering the drops of leaking precome. He could hear the younger man moan above him and encouraged by this sound, he let the first few centimetres of his dick slide into his mouth. Greg’s tongue moved along the veins that covered the soft skin of Mycroft’s cock. He tried to memorise every detail of it.

 

The tip of the younger man’s dick almost touched the back of Lestrade’s throat and he wondered how much more of him he could bear.

"I want you to take all of me into your mouth. I’m sure you can do far better than this," Mycroft growled as if he’d read the DI’s thoughts. With one swift thrust he buried his cock deep inside Greg’s mouth. Greg almost gagged because of the feeling. But the sensation of Mycroft’s dick roughly pushing against his throat seemed to shoot right into his own cock as well.

 

Mycroft dug his hands into Greg’s grey hair and bucked his hips to relentlessly bury his cock into the man’s mouth. To _fuck_ him. Precome leaked out of his erection and ran down the older man’s throat. Salty and bitter on his tongue. Greg’s nose was buried inside the curls of Mycroft’s pubic hair and he wallowed in the sensation of the man’s scent all around him. When Mycroft thrust deep into his mouth again, he automatically swallowed hard around his dick.

 

"Fuck," the younger man growled. But Greg escaped an equal sound when he heard such a filthy and for Mycroft absolutely _inappropriate_ word out of the politician's posh mouth. His moan vibrated along Mycroft’s cock and this sent him over the edge. The pulling on Greg’s hair suddenly stilled and the older man felt thick spurts of semen shooting down his throat.

 

Mycroft's cock still pulsed inside Greg’s mouth, when he swallowed every drop of his come. Greg leaned back and licked over his wet lips. The younger man’s cheeks were blushed and his breathing ragged. His slowly softening cock hung out of his pants and glistened slick with Greg’s saliva.

 

After pulling his trousers back up, Mycroft cleared his throat. "Now I think it’s time that you deserve a reward. You can do what you wanted to do earlier. I want you to pleasure yourself."

Greg’s dark and dilated pupils searched for Mycroft’s. Did he really encourage him to ruin his trousers that cost probably as much as half of Greg’s rent?

 

Greg’s fingers slid down his upper body and he closed them around the shaft of his cock to give it a few loose strokes. He shifted forward until the tip of his erection brushed against Mycroft’s leg and started to rub his dick against it.

 

It felt so utterly filthy to rut against Mycroft’s leg. To _use_ his leg to for his own pleasure and it didn’t take long until Greg felt his orgasm built inside him. His groans seemed to fill every corner of the room. Shining drops of precome dripped out of his cock and soaked into the carpet and Mycroft’s pants.

 

"You don’t have to suppress it, Gregory," Mycroft murmured. His voice soft and smooth in Greg’s ears. How _unbearably_ arousing his given name sounded, when Mycroft said it like this. The politician teasingly scratched his nails over Greg’s scalp, letting the short strands of grey hair sliding through his fingers. The older man felt his balls tighten and when the rough fabric of Mycroft’s trousers brushed against his cock again, he couldn’t delay his orgasm any longer. With a loud moan he came against Mycroft’s leg and on the floor. White patches of cum covering the red Persian carpet.

 

Breathing heavily, Greg collapsed onto the floor in front of Mycroft’s chair. The younger man smirked and moved Greg’s key through his long fingers.

"When I give you the key," he said while looking deep into Lestrade’s misty eyes. "You can either go or we continue our… arrangement after you’ve had a shower and I’ve changed my trousers. Oh, I have so many ideas on my mind in which way we could spend the remaining day," the politician smirked and Greg had to reciprocate his expression. _What a question_.


End file.
